


Totentanz

by lonelyhourglass47



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Fluff, Franz Liszt - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Roleplay?, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28808376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyhourglass47/pseuds/lonelyhourglass47
Summary: Eddy’s having a crisis. Brett’s, well, Liszt’s demeanor, the suit he’s wearing, the way his fingers look on the piano, his soft but low voice, and the double entendres have had a rather jarring effect on Eddy."You, in this video, you're..." and he trails off, unsure of his ability to answer Brett's plea. Eddy slowly turns his head to stare at him with a wild look in his eyes. "You're insanely hot."Brett doesn't believe it at first, laughs and shrugs a bit, yet there's a slight blush that finds its way onto his cheeks. "Wow Eddy, I didn't know you swing that way."-“Sorry, I didn’t realize you meant it.”
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	Totentanz

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of backstory for this one, I watch Twoset's Liszt vs Paganini video an unhealthy number of times each day, and maybe Brett is making me reconsider my identity and rejoin the realm of bisexuality. I also thought it would be hilarious to include "Franz Liszt" in the tags for this one.

“Eddy, come look at this,” Brett calls from the other room, sounding vaguely excited about something. Eddy makes his way over to him, sitting down next to him on the couch where Brett has his laptop resting on his thighs. “The diss track is ready to upload, want to watch it?”

Eddy looks at the title “LISZT vs PAGANINI” and his lips curl upwards into a smile. He leans a bit closer to Brett, motioning towards the screen. “Let’s see it,” he says, and Brett presses play eagerly.

At first, Eddy’s focused on the music in the background, their modern version of Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 filling his ears and turning his attention from anything else. Brett’s voice as he sings though, well, that’s the first issue. Which makes no sense when it’s put that way, because Brett sounds perfect for the role.

Eddy almost laughs at the double entendres within the first four lines, wondering how many of their fans would be dirty-minded enough to assume them and which ones simply wouldn’t understand. After all, it can’t be said how easily the phrase “it’s just the prelude” can be interpreted as something sexual, and the line after that...He figures you’d have to have a highly creative mind to see the meaning behind that one.

“They’re going to have fun freaking out when they get an idea of what that line could insinuate,” Eddy says out loud, flashing Brett a smirk. He nods in response, sharing a brief look with Eddy.

The rest of the track plays out fairly soon, as the video itself is just over two minutes, and after a few comments from Brett about how Eddy growls when he starts rapping and how he keeps making messy, repetitive gestures with his right hand, their masterpiece reaches its end.

“Who do you think won that epic battle?” Brett says, somewhat sarcastic. Eddy considers for a moment, reviewing the footage in his mind.

“You have to admit, Paganini had some fiery roasts towards the end there.”

Brett rolls his eyes. “Almost all of Paganini’s lines were him bragging about his skills. Liszt is too good for that. And he had a positive reputation.”

“But were his lines superior?” asks Eddy, to which Brett quirks a brow.

“Are you questioning Franz Liszt’s abilities to exceed standards? Paganini was rumored to have only gotten his skills by selling his soul. Liszt became a virtuoso from practice like a true hero.”

“That just means Paganini was better from the get-go, since he obviously couldn’t have sold his soul.”

“Not with that attitude.”

Eddy laughs and shakes his head, deciding not to continue with their banter because he has a wild thought to tend to. “I want to see the beginning again,” he mumbles, reaching his arm over to restart the video. Brett doesn’t say anything, only watches along with him as the intro and first four lines of lyrics pass by again. Eddy pauses the video before Brett’s rap portion begins and takes a deep breath, his eyes locked on the screen.

“It’s pretty cool, right? Do I sound good?” asks Brett expectantly, but when he turns his head he sees Eddy swallow heavily, a few of his breaths out of place and ragged.

Eddy’s having a crisis. Brett’s, well,  _ Liszt’s _ demeanor, the suit he’s wearing, the way his fingers look on the piano, his soft but low voice, and the double entendres have had a rather jarring effect on Eddy. Fearfully, he turns to look at Brett.

Brett doesn’t seem to notice the obvious right away, because his only question is, “C’mon man, what are you thinking?” Silence. “Tell me! You’ve got the weirdest look on your face. Come on.”

Eddy directs his gaze back to the screen where it’s paused on Brett’s face peeking up over the piano. The frame is silly, to be quite honest. With palpable hesitation, he says, “You, in this video, you’re…” and he trails off, unsure of his ability to answer Brett’s plea. Eddy slowly turns his head to stare at him with a wild look in his eyes. “You’re insanely hot.”

Brett doesn’t believe it at first, laughs and shrugs a bit, yet there’s a slight blush that finds its way onto his cheeks. “Wow Eddy, I didn’t know you swing that way,” escapes his lips as a joke, because he’s sure Eddy’s true opinion couldn’t fall in line with the implications of that statement. He lightly shoves Eddy to the side with his hand to introduce playfulness as a way of cutting the tension in the room, but the action causes Eddy to let out a breathy sigh of clear, burning want and Brett glances down at Eddy’s lap to see--

Oh god. He’s half hard.

The possibility of being into men sexually never bothered Eddy, but the fact that he’s having these feelings towards his best friend raises too many questions to count, and far too many potential soul-crushing outcomes. “Brett--”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you  _ meant  _ it.”

“I don’t--”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m flattered,” Brett admits. “Though I can only imagine what this video will do to some of the fans if it did this to you,” he adds with a chuckle.

Why is he so calm about it?

Shortly following this reply, Brett places his laptop off to the side and stands up, mumbling something about how he’s going to take a nap and Eddy should upload the diss track to YouTube, and as he enters his bedroom and closes the door behind him, Eddy’s head falls into the palms of his hands.

He definitely fucked up.

He tries to forget about the interaction, distracting himself with other tasks and thoughts, but ultimately fails when images of Brett’s fingers pop into his head while he’s playing a few short tunes on the piano later. He wants to curse, he wants to cry in frustration, but then by some miracle, the door swings open to the room and in walks Brett, except it’s not Brett.

It’s Liszt.

Brett’s version of him, anyway. He’s wearing both the suit and the wig, and as he strolls into the room he projects an excessive level of confidence, but it’s contained within the calm way he steps up behind Eddy at the piano, cracking his knuckles. Eddy wants to ask what he’s doing, but the words get caught in his throat when Brett leans over him, placing his perfect fingers on top of Eddy’s palms and guiding his hands away from the keys.

“Play it more like this, sweetheart.” His voice is sultry, and Eddy would turn around and kiss him if he had permission. Brett reaches over him and plays the same piece Eddy had just attempted, and because Brett has had more practice with it or simply because he’s better, he nails the passage with precision; Eddy can’t stop staring at his fingers as they dance across the piano keys, pressing down firmly but lifting quickly to produce a lighter tone.

Once Brett finishes, he draws his hands away, and they land on Eddy’s arms before snaking up to his shoulders, sending a shiver down Eddy’s spine. Brett bends his knees to lean down closer to Eddy, and he breathes out hot against the back of Eddy’s neck.

_ “Brett,”  _ he whispers, full of need.

Brett smirks behind him and moves slightly over to the right, his lips directly next to Eddy’s ear as he inquires lowly, “What do you want?”

Eddy can’t think of what to say fast enough, because he has so many answers to that question but they’re all jumbled up and turning to mush with Brett that close to him, so the first thing that escapes his lips in a bout of panic is, “Take the wig off.”

Brett tilts his head to the side and squeezes Eddy’s shoulders. “I thought it made me look more desirable.”

A small smile appears on Eddy’s lips as he shakes his head, gaining a nugget of courage. “Your real hair’s sexier.”  _ Fuck,  _ he cries internally,  _ better. I meant to say better.  _

Brett retracts one hand from Eddy’s shoulder to pull the wig off of his head, letting it drop to the floor haphazardly. He breathes in deep and holds it for a few seconds, keeping the oxygen captive while his eyes travel over the top of Eddy’s head and the side of his face. “May I take you to my suite?”

Eddy’s face flushes. “Is--Is this a Hungarian Fantasy?” Brett laughs, loud.

“Hm, no.” He licks his lips. “I’d planned to have you transcending on my Totentanz sometime in the next hour.” Faintly, his hips nudge against Eddy’s back, and Brett isn’t hard (yet), but Eddy can still feel the outline of his cock through both of their sets of clothing.

That does it for him, and he swivels around to face Brett, placing his hands low on Brett’s sides and burying his face in the bottom of his white shirt. “Yes, please, please take me,” he babbles softly, breathily even, eyes closing of their own accord. Brett burns the image of Eddy like that into his mind.

The moment passes, and Brett grips one of Eddy’s hands, pulling him up off of his seat on the piano stool. The eye fucking that follows seems like it lasts an eternity before Brett squeezes Eddy’s hand and leads him to his bedroom.

They stand there at first, as if they’re uncertain of what should transpire here. The door closes and they watch each other intently, a distance of about six inches separating them. Eddy snakes his hands into Brett’s suit jacket and finds the small of his back, lightly caressing him there through the fabric of his shirt. Brett has no choice but to smile up at him, breaking character in order for a knowing look to glint in each of their pairs of eyes that says they both want this. Haven’t they always worked in tandem this way, a deep and profound understanding between them?

Lost in the sight of Brett gazing up at him with a loving smile spread across his soft features, Eddy asks sweetly, “Should we dance to the Mephisto Waltzes?”

Brett steps a little closer and responds with, “I have time.” He allows his head to fall onto Eddy’s shoulder, humming the familiar rhythm in 3/8 time. Before they begin to dance, however, he barely lifts his head, pulls Eddy’s shirt to the side, and immediately attacks him, kissing and sucking on his neck and collarbone.

Eddy gasps and slides his hands onto Brett’s hips, gripping him hard enough that it sends Brett jolting forward as he exhales, hot air assaulting Eddy’s skin. Brett wants payback, so he wastes no time in sinking his teeth into the flesh, biting almost on the verge of too hard, and Eddy yells out a curse word. Brett soothes him with kitten licks to the wound, which has Eddy whimpering constantly. He’s breathing hard at this point, and Brett leans back, prying himself from Eddy’s hold and leaving him. Eddy’s confused at first when Brett walks away, but when he turns around moments later he feels his cock stir in his jeans at the sight of Brett sitting up in his bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs outstretched, enough space between them for another set of limbs to fit. He beckons Eddy over with a simple hand gesture and Eddy obliges, settling in the empty space between Brett’s legs.

“I’ll ask you again,” says Brett, reaching a hand up to thread through Eddy’s dark locks of hair before grabbing a fistful and tugging sharply, coaxing a whine from the other. “What do you want?” 

_ “You,”  _ Eddy hisses, which seems to be the correct answer when Brett cups him through his jeans. The moan he lets out as a result is music to Brett’s ears, and Eddy frantically grabs the lapels of Brett’s suit jacket and attempts to pull the piece of clothing off, begging, “Take it off. I want to see more of you.”

But Brett pulls his hand away from its place on the front of Eddy’s pants and grips each of Eddy’s wrists tightly, pushing the younger’s hands away with a slow shake of his head. “Not yet,  _ princess _ .” The way the word flows off of his tongue should be illegal, Eddy thinks. “You first.”

He releases Eddy’s wrists and closely watches his reaction when Brett’s lean fingers slither up his sides, lifting his shirt in the process and silently asking for its removal. Eddy can’t avoid feeling self-conscious as soon as it’s gone, leaving his torso bare for Brett to stare at, and he does. He stares at Eddy’s skin with more focus than he’s ever had looking at sheet music. Eddy isn’t sure if he can handle that, so he distracts Brett by digging his palms into Brett’s thighs, which ultimately causes the latter’s head to fall back against the headboard as his eyes slip closed, only briefly.

“You like that?” Eddy asks, curious and nervous all at once. His voice seems to bring Brett back to reality, because his head snaps back up, he locks eyes with Eddy, and he smoothly reaches around to grab two handfuls of Eddy’s ass.

He jumps up and nearly falls onto Brett, who growls, “Did I give you permission to touch me like that?” and Eddy’s face feels so much hotter, as does the southern regions of his body. “I think I know exactly what to do with you,” says Brett. Eddy doesn’t respond, too busy breathing heavily. He’s shocked out of breathing entirely when Brett demands, “Ride my thigh, show me how much this persona affects you.”

Eddy’s mouth falls open, jaw slack as he stares at Brett with wide eyes. “What? I’m not--”

“Are you  _ deaf? _ ” Brett inquires, giving a hard smack to Eddy’s ass before leaning in close to whisper in his ear, “I can leave you here, you know, alone and hard and aching to get off. You’ll stroke yourself for the longest time, unable to cum because you miss my touch. So I suggest you slip those jeans off, straddle one of my thighs and  _ ride it _ . You’re in no position to refuse.”

“Hah, stop--stop looking at me like that,” Eddy whines, eyes gazing up at the ceiling to avoid Brett’s piercing gaze as he unzips the front of Eddy’s jeans and starts to pull them down. Only when they’re removed and discarded does Eddy realize the full extent of the situation, and being the one in his underwear while Brett’s still dressed in a suit makes his heart beat faster with the knowledge that Brett won’t be able to keep his eyes off of him.

He lifts his right leg and places it on the other side of Brett’s left thigh, lowering himself down onto it and already having to take a few deep breaths to calm himself after the initial spark of pleasure courses through him at the slightest friction.

Brett’s looking up at him expectantly, so he begins to move his hips, rocking back and forth slowly against Brett’s thigh. As pleasure overtakes his nerves, he pushes down a little more, rolling his hips sensually into the black pants Brett wears to encase his legs. “A little faster,” says Brett, and Eddy swallows down a moan as he fulfills the request. “Yeah, just like that, gorgeous.”

Unsure of what to do with his hands, Eddy reaches for his cock, barely slipping the tips of his fingers into his underwear before Brett stops him, taking Eddy’s hands and clasping them between his own. It’s sweet, really. Not that Eddy thinks that now, because his entire body is on fire and he thinks this might be over much too soon, especially when Brett opens his mouth again.

“Would this be enough for you to cum, Eddy?” Brett asks moments later, in line with Eddy’s thoughts. “Or do you need more? Want me to fuck you with my fingers?” Two of his digits slide down to where Eddy’s rubbing against him, his fingertips grazing the tip of Eddy’s cock, or the outline of it anyway, with each forward movement. When he draws his fingers back, there’s a proud smirk splayed across his lips. “Your boxers are soaked,” he says through a chuckle. He moves then, lifts his thigh enough for Eddy to feel it pushing into his erection, and when Brett’s hands slide up Eddy’s bare legs from his knees to his hips, he blows a fuse, or snaps a string, or whatever metaphor could pertain to the situation. He’s done for.

“ _ Fuck,  _ I-- _ Brett! _ ” Eddy moans in a high register, clasping a hand over his mouth as he spills into his boxers, a prominent dark spot forming on the fabric after he slows his movements to a stop and struggles to catch his breath. Brett wraps both of his arms around him and pulls him in, Eddy’s head falling onto Brett’s shoulder as he closes his eyes. It feels like a hug.

Brett clears his throat, and when he speaks Eddy can hear how turned on he must be from Eddy’s performance. “That was fast,” he rasps, “and I had so much more planned.”

Nothing else comes to mind, so Eddy inappropriately blurts, “If you can cum slowly, you can cum quickly!” which has Brett cackling for half a minute before he pushes Eddy off of him and licks his lips, his eyes raking over Eddy’s glistening skin.

“It’s alright, I’ll just have to make it happen a second time,” he decides. He shrugs his suit jacket off and reaches to unbuckle his belt, but Eddy bats his hands away and eagerly does it himself, working efficiently to free Brett’s cock from beneath his clothing. Eddy knows where this is heading.

“Ah, so this is your Totentanz then,” he quips, eyeing Brett’s thick erection.

It’s Brett’s turn to be surprised now as Eddy scoots back on the bed to give himself more room before leaning down and yanking both pants and underwear down in one motion, allowing Brett’s cock to spring free and tap against Eddy’s bottom lip once before the latter immediately takes the head into his mouth, sucking hard enough for Brett to lose control and buck his hips up. Eddy remains focused, one of his hands reaching up to slip under Brett’s shirt and glide up to his chest, brushing his fingers over a nipple while his other hand wraps around the base of Brett’s cock, squeezing him. Brett shudders, biting his tongue hard to keep from crying out Eddy’s name so soon. He looks down at Eddy, who’s peering up at him through half-lidded eyes as he sinks his head down, Brett’s cock slipping deep into Eddy’s throat. He gags at first, but learns to relax his jaw and breathe through his nose the best he can.

He bobs up and down in perfect time, perks of being a musician. Not once does he break eye contact with Brett, who struggles to keep up the domineering facade when Eddy’s tongue works over the underside of his cock expertly. He pulls all the way back up every now and then to lap at the precum steadily trickling out of the slit, and Brett takes all he can handle before the heat coiling in the pit of his stomach tells him this needs to come to a halt before he unravels, melting into putty under Eddy’s watchful eye.

“Are you turned on again yet?” Brett asks, receiving a nod in response. “Fuck, get up here. Good boy.” Eddy pulls off of Brett’s cock with a wet pop and wipes his chin with his hand to get rid of the saliva and precum. His chest is heaving, as is Brett’s. The latter feels his soul leave his body when Eddy slips his other hand into his shirt alongside the first one, circling his thumbs around Brett’s nipples before pinching both of them simultaneously between his fingers. Brett comes forward and brackets himself to Eddy, clawing at his shoulders as he presses sloppy kisses to his throat where his Adam's apple bobs up and down, barely conscientious enough by that point to refrain from leaving a hickey there. Eddy thrusts his hands down onto Brett’s pants bunched up around his thighs and pulls them lower, having to free himself from Brett’s hold on him in order to remove them completely and abandon them on the floor. Next is Brett’s shirt, which he pulls up over his head by himself before Eddy has the chance, and once the latter sees those hard pink nipples he’s pulling his own soiled boxers off and pleading for Brett to touch him.

“Shh, calm down, I will,” assures Brett, stroking Eddy’s arm affectionately while reaching into his bedside drawer for something. “I’m going to prep you if you’ll let me.”

Eddy nods and can’t stop nodding. “Yes, please, show me how skilled those pianist fingers are,” he begs, a certain humor in his tone as he indirectly refers to Brett as Liszt. But he hardly sees him that way anymore when Brett’s naked and looking just as impatient as Eddy as he pops the cap of the lube open and drizzles some onto his fingers, hands shaking with anticipation.

Eddy’s skin is burning hot as Brett presses the first finger into him after turning him around and coaxing him to get on his knees. Eddy makes a comment about how foreign the feeling is, and it doesn’t occur to him why Brett laughs bitterly until the older says, “Don’t lie. I know you’ve done this to yourself before.” Eddy wants to ask how, but any possible words fizzle out of his mind when Brett starts to thrust his finger in and out of his hole before wiggling a second one in alongside the first. As he scissors them Eddy begins to shake, the initial discomfort morphing into pleasure, and he has so little and so much energy at the same time after already having an orgasm roughly ten minutes prior. Brett leans forward and presses a few wet kisses to Eddy’s tailbone, whispering his affections in a moment of weakness, too quiet to be heard by the younger.

Once he’s added a third finger and gently stretched and fucked Eddy with all of them, he removes them with an obscene slurping sound and pulls Eddy back over and around so that they’re facing each other once more, and Eddy’s already panting by the time Brett makes himself comfortable and guides Eddy down onto his cock, a sharp whimper pushing its way past Eddy’s lips at the stretch and slight burn. Brett lets him choose when to move, and after about forty seconds Eddy lifts almost all the way off of Brett’s cock and sinks back down, enveloping his dick in tight, wet heat.

Brett’s hands find Eddy’s sides as the latter builds a steady rhythm at approximately 100 bpm, his palms working their way towards each other to caress Eddy’s stomach, which feels like static to Eddy rather than the usual tickle. For a while, they dissolve into the sounds they make: moaning and gasping, bedsprings creaking, skin slapping together, and two pounding heartbeats. Brett gradually happens to thrust up into Eddy, meeting him halfway as he brings his ass down and back up and down again. Brett pulls him closer, a dull ache in his chest for a reason he can’t define. They work together, bring each other close to the brink, and before they reach the finish line Eddy places his hands on Brett’s chest to support himself better and slows his movements, whispers, “Am I actually number one on your Liszt?”

Despite the awful pun, a soft smile forms across Brett’s lips, his skin red by now from exertion, and his hands come up to cradle Eddy’s face; with moisture trapped in his eyes he nods as a response to the question, enthusiastic in nature. Eddy simply melts. He seals the moment up by regaining the previous speed of his movements up and down Brett’s cock, and as the tip brushes against his prostate, he shouts and drops his head forward so that his forehead connects with Brett’s. Their eyes slip closed roughly around the same second, which is when Eddy decides to murmur, “So close, Bretty, let me,” and Brett thrusts up hard at the plea.

“Cum for me,” he commands, his voice a low growl that causes Eddy to paint their stomachs white with his release seconds later, untouched and unexpected. His bliss continues to rise higher as Brett fucks up into him faster. Once Eddy’s initial moan of Brett’s name dies down and he starts to whimper uncontrollably, Brett sighs, needy, acting on impulse in the way he pulls Eddy’s face down to connect their lips. It’s a sweet kiss, one that demands total attention and tastes like mango on strawberry. Eddy’s fingers lick up Brett’s neck like flames and caress his jaw, pulling his face impossibly closer as Eddy runs his tongue across his bottom lip. Brett groans loudly against Eddy’s mouth when he cums, burying his cock deep into Eddy’s ass while his hands tense up on Eddy’s face as he convulses.

Eddy pulls away first to give Brett some breathing room, running his long fingers through Brett’s hair, careful to avoid the sweat at his hairline. After catching up to reality and forcing his eyes open, Brett helps Eddy off of his cock and lays him down on his back on the bed, reaching over to his nightstand to grab some tissues and clean them both up the best he can. Throwing the tissues aside to deal with later, he sits up on his knees and strokes both hands over Eddy’s chest lovingly, raking his eyes all the way down and back up Eddy’s spent form before locking onto his lips, plump and red. “You did so well, so good for me,” he praises him, quietly so that the rest of the world won’t hear. “You took my cock so well, Eddy.” Brett repositions himself to lean over him more, holding himself up on his elbows with his legs on either side of Eddy’s.

“What are you thinking?” inquires Eddy when their eyes meet through the golden glow of the room. It’s nearing sunset. Hesitantly, and all while maintaining eye contact, Brett clears his throat to answer. Eddy notices the sheepishness etched onto his features, which his brain matches with the adjective  _ cute. _ Brett offers a tiny, hopeful smile, yet he’s undoubtedly worried.

“Is it me that you want? Or is it Liszt?”

As if there could be an alternative.

Eddy wraps his arms around Brett’s shoulders and neck, staring up at him with a huge grin and a flash of sincere adoration in his eyes, and Brett finds it contagious as he smiles back before the response even comes.

Eddy pulls Brett’s face close, declaring a mere inch from his lips, “It’s you. It’s always been you, Brett.”

So Brett kisses him once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over the course of two nights, blasting the Hungarian Rhapsodies and Mephisto Waltzes in my headphones the entire time.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment, I love feedback :)  
> As always, thank you for reading!


End file.
